Goose-eggs, Hot Buttered Rum, & Mississippi Squirrels
by AlannasTara
Summary: Three times Daryl made Carol laugh. That's it. That's the summary. Caryl. Carol x Daryl.


**AN: Because the fandom could use some levity and happiness…I present to you, shameless fluff and stuff.**

 _Disclaimer: I do not own TWD, the characters, story, or plot. If I did, there'd be a whole lot of changes._

* * *

1.

Carol could hear the clanking of metal striking the tiles, thunking wood dropping, and plastic hitting the countertops in the kitchen, as she descended the stairs and rounded the corner. She peeked into the kitchen and saw Daryl digging through the drawer, though for what she didn't know. Holding her arms across her stomach, she stepped into the room.

"Can I help you with something?" Carol said, startling Daryl and causing him to drop the meat tenderizer on his foot.

"Sonofabitch," he yelled. "Scared the shit outta me!"

He hopped around grabbing at his bare foot, trying to catch his balance, but only managing to hit the counter with his hip and bang his head on the corner of the cabinet door.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

The curses streamed out in a steady litany, not slowing down for a second, and Carol couldn't help but chuckle at the scene before her.

"Looking for something? Besides a concussion?"

He glared up at her from his hunched over position and huffed.

"Well, I was gonna make you some tea, since I knew you wasn't feeling good, but since you seem fine now…"

"Need an ice pack?" She asked, making her way gingerly across the cold tiles to the freezer door.

"Better make it two," Daryl groaned, gently massaging his scalp where he felt a goose-egg creeping up.

She carried it over to him, placing it on his head, but not before brushing a feather-light kiss against the bump.

"C'mon, let's go back to bed." She shouldered his arm across her, and they limped out of the kitchen. "We make quite the pair don't we?"

"Yeah, lets just get to the couch. Forget the stairs," he grouched, turning them both to the living room.

"Good idea."

2.

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I don't know what I did wrong?" Daryl looked up at Carol, red tinting his cheeks.

She moved over and grabbed a towel, from the floor to place over the growing wet spot on the bed, and wipe the sticky substance from the backs of her thighs.

"Let me see the bottle," she asked, reaching her hand over his chest. "You're not supposed to take the cap all the way off," she giggled, screwing the cap back down. "You're just supposed to pop it up, like this." She demonstrated for him, squirting a bit of the hot buttered rum flavored lube into the palm of her hand.

He placed his hand over his eyes, blushing like crazy, and mumbling under his breath about how it was her idea to begin with, and this was why they should stick to what they knew worked, instead of trying whatever crazy idea Michonne had put in her head.

"Daryl," she laughed, nudging his arm.

He grumbled under his breath. "Ruined the fuckin' mood is what it did."

"Daryl!" She pushed his arm off his face, ignoring the scarlet flush to his skin.

"What?"

"Well, we went to all this trouble…be a shame to waste it…" Carol whispered in his ear, as her hand snuck under the sheet, wrapping around him.

"Think it really tastes like rum?" He croaked, his voice cracking as she began to stroke him.

"Only one way to find out."

3.

"You're shittin' me!"

"Swear on a stack of Bibles I'm not. It flew straight up my pants leg."

"I don't believe that at all."

"Would I lie to you?"

"You sure you weren't into some of Merle's shrooms? I know you told everyone about that chupacabra thingymabob."

Daryl placed his hand on his heart and looked her straight in the eye. "Carol, I swear, cross my heart, the squirrel flew across my boot, and straight up my pants leg. Why you think I got these ties on 'em for?"

"To keep the ticks away." Carol shrugged matter of factly. They all knew what had happened to some of the men in the camp, and the guys didn't take any chances anymore.

"Well, that too, but I ain't takin' any chances on no crazy ass squirrel straight out of a Ray Stevens' song taking a chunk outta my junk."

Carol busted out laughing, gripping her sides and holding her ribs to keep the pain from shooting up her side from the knife wound.

"Stahp," she admonished when she could catch her breath. "Laughing makes it worse."

"'M sorry," he said, eyes twinkling as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, letting her know he wasn't all that sorry. "Just like hearin' you laugh again. Been so long since I seen you smile like that."

"It's been a long time since I had a reason to smile," she murmured, reaching across to grip his hand in her own. "Thank you for that."


End file.
